Fullara #AtoZChallenge‏ @AprilA2Z

What is done is done. Here I lie, part of me, just my lower lip, and I look at my husband carrying my charred remains, tears rolling down his eyes, moaning in pain. Here I will remain, and devotees will build temples around this site and call me Fullara Devi, but no one will understand the meaning of it all.

What is desire? What is the meaning of vengeance? What is our purpose in life?  I find myself pondering over these questions as I look at my ascetic husband. Smeared in ashes, drunk on bhaang, covered with snakes and accompanied by ghosts, he is so ignorant of the world. He is unaware that his sorrow threatens the well-being of the world. Oh my Bholenath - the ignorant one, how did I let this happen.

Ekadashi #AtoZChallenge‏ @AprilA2Z

Bhima was the Pandava brother with the most strength and appetite. He understood only logic and so once when no one could satiate his curiosity as to why one keeps an Ekadashi vrat, he went to the great sage Vyasadeva, the grandfather of the Pandavas to get some advice.

“Oh great and learned grandfather, my brother Yudhisthira, my dear mother Kunti, and my beloved wife Draupadi, as well as Arjuna, Nakula and Sahadeva, fast completely on each Ekadasi and strictly follow all the rules of that sacred day. Being very religious, they always tell me that I should also fast on that day too. 

But, grandfather, I tell them that I cannot live without eating, because as the son of Vayudeva (the wind God), hunger is unbearable to me. I can give widely in charity and worship Lord Vishnu, but I cannot be asked to fast on Ekadasi."

Hearing these words, the grandsire of Bhima, started to narrate the story of Ekadahi.

Devaki #AtoZChallenge‏ @AprilA2Z

For years, I have been dreaming of the day when I would finally meet my Son. What would I say to him? How would we make up for the lost time?

I only gave birth to him, but I could never be his mother. I was not the one who raised him, who protected him, who fed him, who taught him; where do I stand as his mother? These were questions I asked myself every night as I cried myself to sleep. And every night, my husband, Vasudeva, would remind me that our Son was no ordinary human, he would remind me that we were just vessels serving a much larger purpose.

I remember with painful clarity the night that changed my life; that left us helpless and in shackles in this stoned prison; that destroyed my every chance at being a mother. On the night of my marriage King Kamsa, my brother, the ruler of Mathura was driving our chariot, when a roar from the skies stopped us in our tracks. The voice was loud and clear, prophesying that my eighth son would be the destroyer of Kamsa. My brother had immediately pulled the sword on me, and I wish now that my husband had let him end my life then. At least, I wouldn't have died a million deaths since, as Kamsa mercilessly killed six of my sons right in front of my eyes.

Chitralekha #AtoZChallenge‏ @AprilA2Z

Living in Banasura's kingdom was suffocating -  the grey concrete walls, dimly lit windows, damp floors, with no sight of gardens or anything beautiful, made me nauseous and ill tempered. I often argued with my father, who was Bana's minister, as to why we had to live here? And he would only reply with a guilty smile. Banasura, was one of the most powerful demons. Strong and fierce, he had also managed to seek a boon from Lord Shiva by pleasing him with his devotion. And now, Lord Shiva guarded the gates of Banasura city himself. It was difficult to escape from Bana's clutches.

The only solace I found was in painting and in the company of my dear friend, Usha, Bana's daughter. She was beautiful and kind, unlike her father, and together we dreamed of getting out of this place someday.

Bahuchara Maa #AtoZChallenge‏ @AprilA2Z

"What makes one a woman?" Daya cried.

I looked into her wounded eyes and searched for an answer. Though I am the dadaguru of the family and have helped many find their own path in this dark world, each time I am asked this question, I fumble.

"Daya, have you heard the story of Bahuchara Maa?"

I stroked her hair and wiped her tears with my pallu. I pointed to the picture frame hung on my wall; the Goddess triumphantly sat on a rooster, trident in one hand and scripture in another.

Anjana #AtoZChallenge‏ @AprilA2Z

"Tell me again, Ma, the story of my birth."

I looked into my son's beady little mischievous eyes, as I nursed his jaw. His attempt to eat the Sun, mistaking it to be a ripe mango, and thus avoiding an eclipse had made Lord Indra rage after him. But he is but a child, I will never forgive Indra for having thrown Vajra (thunderbolt) at Anjaneya. Now he has a permanent mark on his jaw.

"Oh, Hanuman!" I let out a sigh as I looked at him. "Hanuman", I mumbled, 'one with the broken chin'

"Ma?"

"Yes, my love...." I began,

"Not so long ago, in a place faraway from here, King Dasaratha of Ayodhya was a performing a yagna. Like me and your father, VeeraKesari, the King too was praying to have his own children. After Sage Rishyashringa performed the Putrakameshti yagna for King Dasaratha, Lord Agni came before Dasaratha and gave him some payasam (pudding) which was to be be shared between King Dasaratha's three wives."

Shakti #AtoZChallenge @AprilA2Z

After much second guessing, here it is - I take on April A-Z challenge this year and bring to you, 26 short stories based on the female characters from Indian mythology. Now, my knowledge on Indian mythology is very limited - stories I've heard from my grandparents, the retelling of the epic Ramayana and Mahabharata I've read and seen, the rituals I've observed during festivals - all have left a impression on me since childhood.

Growing up I was never self-conscious of being a Hindu. Yes, I learnt the Hanuman chalisa by heart and every Tuesday during my summer holidays, I went with my Nanaji to the Hanuman Setu in Lucknow and helped serve water and prasad; till date I can recite shlokas in Tamil fluently, which were taught to me by an aunt who lived nearby our house in Annanagar, Chennai; and mythological stories that came from Amar Chitra Katha and few teleserials fascinated me to no end. At the same time, I went to a missionary school and sang hymns at school assemblies with joy, visited Nizamuddin Dargah with my parents and immersed in the soulful qawwals of the dargah, marveled at the beautiful churches and basilicas of Goa when vacationing.

Writing these stories on Indian mythology are a way to understand the human conditions, the human dilemmas, to introspect and question once again, what we perceive as right or wrong. I am sure anyone who has heard stories about Lord Ram and Lord Krishna have questioned, Why did Ram, the righteous Lord, the 'Maryada Purushottama', abandon Sita? or Why did Krishna, the inclusive leader, the perfect Statesman, adopt unfair means that went against 'Dharma Yuddha'?

The quest for knowledge (Saraswati), power (Durga) and wealth (Lakshmi) is what our society revolves around and what better way to understand this than to look into the stories of Shakti.

Focusing on the female narrative is important to uncover the layers and bring out the essence of life. So join me through April , and see the stories unfold.

P.S. I am trying to schedule my posts beforehand but till now I only have three stories written, so let's see how this goes. But I am hoping like my first time, in 2014, the rush and the deadline of writing every day pushes me to complete this challenge successfully, and leads me to a second published book.

Re-Discovering the Classics

We’ve been always told to never judge a book by its cover. But there is no shame if a beautiful cover entices you to pick up a classic. 

Many designers are foraying into the field of book designing with the aim that good literature is read by many, and one way of doing it, is by communicating what a book holds inside by depicting it in a modern way on the outside. The visual imagery that urges one to pick up a book is what new book covers are doing for the good old classics, and I for one, am totally buying into this so called ‘gimmick’As a book hoarder, nothing excites me more than the look and feel of a new book. And when some of my favourite classics are re-imagined in a way that connects instantly to the literature and the intent of the author, I buy the book without giving a second thought.

Read the rest of the post at Kubashi

Guerrilla Wars #WomenOfBlogging

Last week I was at Tate Modern, where I was introduced to the Guerrilla Girls -

" The Guerrilla Girls are feminist activist artists. We wear gorilla masks in public and use facts, humor and outrageous visuals to expose gender and ethnic bias as well as corruption in politics, art, film, and pop culture. Our anonymity keeps the focus on the issues, and away from who we might be: we could be anyone and we are everywhere."

They were formed in response to an exhibition held at the Museum of Modern Art, New York in 1984 where a revolting fact came to light, that of sexism in the art world. Amongst the 169 artists represented, only 13 were women. When normal protest did not rouse any interest from the public, they found new ways to revolt using street art. In the middle of the night, they took to the streets of SoHo and pasted posters that named New York galleries that showed no more than 10% women artists and listed successful male artists who allowed their work to be shown in galleries showing little or no work by women.

10 Unique Experiences in Iceland

Iceland - it will leave you speechless and turn you into a storyteller. 

The thing with Iceland is, it offers you one breath-taking sight after another and you are left enraptured, not knowing that your soul will linger in the afterglow of the experiences - experiences of gushing waterfalls, bubbling springs, galloping horses, majestic mountains, daunting volcanoes, melting ice and dancing lights in the sky.